Fulton looked back from the table. “Let him pass, Parker. They’re coming.”
Parker didn’t look happy, but he moved aside. Tain walked into the room after Samantha, the frosty chill of death magic clutching him with moist fingers. He held himself rigid, walling off the madness that tapped at him. He had to stay alert, to discover if the portal the matriarch had made was connected to this death realm.
Demons flowed toward them from every quarter, in demon form or in the guises of well-dressed humans. All the demons of the Lamiah clan, Tain surmised, entering from each of their families’ strongholds.
They grouped themselves around the room, gathering in disparate clumps, as though each family knew exactly where to stand in the hall. Tain recognized some of the demons—Merrick stood near one pillar in his human form, wearing his customary well-tailored suit and a sly smile. Near Merrick was Nadia, her shorn hair neatened, her look defiant. Tain remembered the matriarch stating that Nadia was no longer of the clan, but perhaps the matriarch’s death gave Nadia a chance to claim her part of it again.
Notably absent was Tristan, who had disappeared as soon as Fulton opened the way to the death realm. Also absent was the matriarch’s majordomo.
Six men joined Fulton in the middle of the room—heads of households, Tain guessed. Fulton greeted them all solemnly, their breaths fogging in the cold air. All but Fulton looked over Samantha like they might eye a racehorse, wondering if it would bring in the biggest prize for them.
The meeting was simple. Fulton spoke to the six men, formally presenting Samantha as both his daughter and the candidate for matriarch. The household heads went back to their collective groups and murmured among themselves while Samantha, Fulton, and Tain waited at the table.
The chill of death magic was like ice in Tain’s blood, and he wasn’t sure how long he could stand here. The pentacle tattoo on his cheek burned, and voices in his head began to whisper.
You are a hundred times more powerful than they are. Even in this death realm, you can crush them. You can take Samantha far away and have her as your own, make her yours.
He clenched his teeth against the thoughts. Kehksut had thought that way—destroy everyone and take what you want. Lesser beings should bow down to the more powerful or be obliterated.
Now Tain, the being who’d been strong enough to kill Kehksut himself, fought the urge to do as the demon had taught him. He closed his eyes, willing himself to calm, calling words of soothing meditation.
Samantha touched his hand. He opened his eyes to find her at his side, her warm hand in his.
She trusted him. She looked up at him with her soft, dark gaze, believing he’d come here to protect her, believing he’d support her. She’d quickly proved the damning evidence of the photos had been false, supporting him. They were holding up each other.
Tain couldn’t look away from her. Nothing was more important than the warmth in her eyes, the touch of her hand. Her heat cut through the death realm’s chill, soothing him, unwinding the tightness in his body.
He barely noticed when the six men detached themselves from their families again and returned to Fulton.
“We have decided,” one of them said. “Samantha, daughter of Fulton, will become our matriarch.”
Fulton nodded solemnly, and Tain saw Samantha grow still more rigid. She was uncomfortable here too, but he saw her trying to make herself believe she did belong here.
She jumped when Fulton and the six other heads of households drew short-bladed, black knives. Tain stepped closer to Samantha, but the men drew the blades across their palms, each scoring a line of deep-red blood. Then each man stepped in front of Samantha in turn, dipped his finger into his own blood, and traced it across her face.
“I pledge my blood, my loyalty, and my house to you, our matriarch,” they intoned.
Each one provided a line that created a seven-sided pattern, Fulton tracing in the last piece. “I pledge my blood, my loyalty, and my house to you, our matriarch,” he said in a warm voice.
He whispered something into Samantha’s ear, and when he stepped away, she said, “I accept and will protect my clan against its enemies, come what may.”
The clan gave a rousing cheer and someone shouted for champagne. Fulton gave Samantha a handkerchief with which to wipe off her face, then kissed her cheek. “Thank you, daughter.” He had tears in his eyes. “You’ve made me so proud.”
The clan came to congratulate her. Samantha was surrounded first by her own family and then those that made up the rest of the clan. For the most part they were friendly and smiling, though Tain detected a few speculative and unhappy glances.
Merrick was one of the last who came to pay his respects. He held a champagne flute negligently in one hand and looked Samantha up and down.
“So you made good on your threat. I bow to you, my matriarch.” Merrick made a mock salaam. “Perhaps I can make an appointment with you to talk business?”
“You’ll have to speak to my assistant,” Samantha said, meeting his gaze with a cool one of her own. “Which I don’t have yet, so you’ll have to wait until I appoint one. But no more Mindglow, Merrick. This matriarch is not going to assist in your illegal activities.”
Merrick’s smile widened. “What illegal activities would those be? I don’t think I ever actually said the last matriarch supplied me with Mindglow. That would be so wrong of her.”
“I’m glad you agree. I don’t get to be a cop anymore, but I imagine there’s a file on you in the matriarch’s office this thick.” She indicated a substantial size with her thumb and forefinger.
Merrick only let his smile widen. “I look forward to fencing with you, dear matriarch. Here’s to the start of an interesting friendship.”
He moved off, whistling to himself, and Samantha’s defiant stance faded. The face she turned to Tain was wan and lined with exhaustion. Tain leaned down to her in concern. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“I will be.” Samantha drew a breath and gave him a decided nod. “I have to be. But don’t let them give me any more champagne. My headache is monumental.”
Tain plucked the half-empty glass from her hand and transferred his grip to her elbow. “I won’t let you fall,” he said.
Samantha’s dark eyes were full when she looked up at him. “Thank you,” she said. “Oh, gods, Tain, what did I just do?”
He gave her a faint smile. “Chose your life.”
Her eyes shone with fear. “What if it was the wrong choice?”
“There are no right and wrong choices,” Tain said trying to keep his voice gentle. “There is only what we do with the choices we make.”
She frowned. “Oh, great. Of all the Immortals, I had to get stuck with the philosopher.”
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It’s what happens when you’re a prisoner for seven hundred years.”
Samantha laughed, and then shivered. “Let’s get out of this hellhole. Isn’t it making you sick?”
“It is. Serves me right for showing off for your cousin Tristan.”
“He needed to be slapped, the little monster. I’ll deal with him.” Samantha’s humor faded, and she put her warm hand in Tain’s. “This is what I am, now.”
“I know,” Tain said, and led her back to Fulton’s dining room.
“You’re the what?” Hunter growled, then turned an accusing green glare on Tain. “She’s the what?”
“The matriarch of the Lamiah clan,” Tain said. “Pay attention.”
Samantha stood in the middle of what used to be the matriarch’s study in the basement of the matriarch’s Beverly Hills mansion. Fulton had sent her here after the champagne had run out, explaining that she’d take over that very night. The majordomo had been terse when Samantha had arrived, but seemed to accept the decision of the clan as final. She’d stated that she still wanted to retire, but she’d help transition Samantha’s new assistant, whoever that might be.
Samantha thought the woman’s acceptance too quick
, especially when she’d backed a different candidate, and resolved to keep an eye on her. Samantha had immediately called Leda and Hunter and invited them down, wanting to tell them in person why she wouldn’t be returning to their house that night.
“So you’re the leader of the demons now?” Hunter asked, his scowl in place.
“Just of this clan,” Samantha corrected.
“Right. Sure,” said Hunter the demon-hater. His gaze flicked to Tain and his tone turned to one of concern. “You going to be all right? The death magic is pretty heavy in here.”
Tain gave him a brief, stoic nod, folding his arms over his coat. “I’m used to it.”
“I know, but I had the idea you wanted nothing more to do with it. Ever.”
Tain merely shrugged. He’d been quiet since the muster, staying close while they rode to the matriarch’s mansion. He hadn’t touched Samantha in the car one of the human drivers had chauffeured, but sat thigh-to-thigh with her, his bulk reassuring. He hadn’t offered an explanation of where he’d been for the last few days, but then again, they hadn’t yet been alone for a solitary moment.
Tain had been very protective of Samantha tonight, but she knew Hunter was right—Tain didn’t belong with demons. He might stay around long enough to know that Samantha would be all right, maybe until they figured out who was cutting out demon hearts. But then he’d be gone, off to protect the next person who needed an Immortal. It was difficult to think about, but she’d have to face that sooner or later.
Hunter and Leda finally departed, Leda giving Samantha a tight hug before she went.
As soon as they walked out, the compound came on alert as a limousine delivering Septimus pulled up to where the gates had once been. Samantha gave word he could be admitted, and received him in one of the ground-floor rooms whose tasteful opulence matched Septimus’s quiet elegance.
“This is a first,” Septimus said smoothly when they were seated. “And a last. A vampire lord visiting a demon matriarch. Quite unprecedented.”
“We can note that for the record,” Samantha said. She’d decided on one of her female cousins as her secretary, a smart-looking young woman called Flavia, who even now sat in the room, her stylus poised over an electronic tablet.
Tain had left Samantha’s office when word of Septimus’s visit had come, saying he wanted to look around. Surprised, Samantha had said nothing, and he’d calmly walked out. She’d thought Tain would want to confront Septimus about the vampire having him followed and photographed, but Tain didn’t seem interested—or maybe he had some idea up his sleeve he wasn’t going to share with Samantha.
“So you’re not with the police anymore?” Septimus asked once they were settled.
“I’ll go in tomorrow and resign. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be in touch with my best friend Logan and keeping an eye on excessive vampire activity.”
Septimus gave her an answering smile. “I’m sure you’ll keep an even better eye on it now. And I’ll be keeping my eye on you. I have the vampire interests in this town under my thumb, but you . . .” He leaned forward, his handsome face showing concern. “Ms. Taylor, the other clans will challenge you. You’ll have to work hard for their respect, because respect is much more important than fear. They’ll want to rule you, if they don’t simply try to wipe you out.”
“I’m aware of that.” Fulton had already briefed Samantha on the other clans and what they could do, and on the strength of the Lamiah clan. The Lamiahs might have let themselves become civilized and citified, but they still had a private army.
“I can help you,” Septimus offered. “You can have my strength behind you in an instant. All you have to do is ask.”
Samantha sent him a skeptical look. “As smooth as ever, Septimus. Me having vampire backing would ostracize me from all the clans, leaving me completely dependent on you. I know what much.”
Septimus shrugged, his dark eyes showing the shrewdness of centuries. This was a vampire who’d advised Julius Caesar on how to take Rome, if Septimus’s stories were to be believed. “Ah, well, I had to try.” Septimus rose, holding out his hand. Samantha clasped it, knowing that their friendship, such as it was, would be distant and diplomatic now. “I wish you the best of luck.”
“Thank you,” Samantha said. “And I’ll keep your offer in mind. You never know.”
“That’s true, you don’t.” Septimus swept her a bow then turned and walked out.
Samantha couldn’t stand the thought of sleeping in the bedroom in which the previous matriarch had been killed, so she chose a generic guest room on the second floor. One of the staff had startled her when she’d chosen the room by going through the chamber and disabling about a dozen hidden cameras and bugs before letting her in. Apparently, the matriarch had liked to spy on her guests. Samantha had gone through the room again on her own, to satisfy for herself that all devices had been removed.
After Septimus departed, Samantha told Flavia good night and retreated to the bedroom, dismissing every member of staff who wanted to accompany her and wait on her, all the way up to tucking her into bed. Samantha very much wanted, and needed, to be alone.
She’d snapped off all the lights and stripped down to her underwear when she heard the locked door open. In a moment she felt a warmth behind her then strong hands on her abdomen, warm through her camisole.
“I hope that’s you, Tain,” she whispered in the darkness.
“Is that your idea of security?” he rumbled, leaning down to nip her ear. “Asking the intruder you hope it’s who you think it is?”
Samantha leaned back against his hard body, feeling the tension in him. “No one else in this place has life magic pulsing like that.”
Tain’s lips grazed her neck, and Samantha’s body responded, as tired as she was, warmth curling in her belly. Samantha craved Tain, and not just for his life essence.
“Are we going to talk now?” she asked. “You’ll tell me about your adventures for the last week, and I’ll tell you all about settling in as matriarch?”
“Not yet.”
Part of Samantha chafed with impatience, wanting to know where he’d been and what he’d been doing, but another part thought maybe it was better if he didn’t tell her.
Another nip, this time to her neck. “Tonight, no talking about feelings,” Tain said, breath hot on her skin. “No discussing demons, no worrying about tomorrow.”
“No?” Samantha closed her eyes, letting the fire of his touch slide through her. “Then what are we going to talk about?”
“You and me.”
Samantha tensed a little. “What about you and me?”
“How I want you until I’m crazy with it.”
Tain skimmed the spaghetti straps of her camisole from her shoulders and pushed the silk down her body. His lips brushed her neck, unshaved whiskers like fine sandpaper against her skin.
“You have to tell me what happened,” she said, though without much conviction now. “I’m going insane not knowing.”
She saw him in the full-length cheval mirror across the room, his red head bent to her, his suit coat and tie gone, his shirt a pale smudge in the gloom.
“I thought it would be a relief for you to be without me for a while,” he said.
“No, it wasn’t. I was afraid.”
Tain touched his lips to her shoulder. “Hunter would have protected you from any danger. So would Leda and their pet lion.”
“I meant I was afraid for you. I was afraid you’d gone insane again—and that you’d never come back.”
Tain kissed the side of her neck. “I admit I came very close.”
“Please tell me what happened.”
He went silent for a time, kissing her neck, her bared shoulders, her back. Samantha thought he wouldn’t answer at all when Tain said, “I was with Adrian.”
“You went to Seattle?” Samantha hated to sound like an interrogator, but if she’d learned one thing about Tain, it was that she had to pry information from him one piece at a t
ime.
He rumbled a negative, lips on her skin. “There’s a monastery in the desert east of here, quiet and protected, no death magic. Adrian told me if I ever thought I was losing it, I should go there.”
Samantha had read about a monastery way out at the foot of a desert mountain range, located at the end of a winding, unpaved road. It had been there since the eighteenth century, and had white arches, cool tiled floors, quiet bells, and silent monks.
“Did Adrian sense you were in trouble, and came to find you?” Samantha asked.
Tain chuckled, his breath tickling her. “No, I called him on my cell phone and told him. He flew down and met me there. We talked about a lot of things.”
“Good.” A tightness in her released. “I’m glad you weren’t alone.”
Another kiss, another brush of breath. “We talked about Old Ones and this case. And you.”
Samantha tried a laugh. “I’m not sure I want to know what Adrian with the scary snake said about me.”
“I will tell you, but not right now.” Tain’s voice went softer, his lilt pronounced, his breath burning. “You’ve taken no life essence since I left, have you?”
She swallowed. “You can tell?”
“You need to take it, Samantha. A human being can’t go without water and sleep, a vampire can’t survive without blood, and a demon can’t live without life essence. You’ll kill yourself if you go without too long.”
“I’m coming to that conclusion.” It dismayed Samantha to give in to her demon needs, and her instinct was to fight that. But she’d felt so awful the past few days, exhausted and sick with no relief, that she had to admit he was right.
Tain ceased speaking, and Samantha’s camisole fell all the way down her body, crumpling to the floor at her feet. Tain bent to her, lips traveled down her spine until his hot breath touched the small of her back. Samantha shifted, loving the sensation of his mouth.
“Why do I crave it all the time?” she whispered. “I used to not even notice.”
Tain sank to his knees and pressed a kiss to each of her silk-clad buttocks, then moved down to her thighs. His whiskers brushed the insides of her legs. “You need to let it come naturally.”
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